


Within the Boundaries of Solace

by fractalsin



Series: Fairy Tale Retellings [6]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: F/F, Fairytale Retelling - Rapunzel, Girlfriends - Freeform, Kagetora's sad parenting, Lesbian!Momoi, Long Haired!Riko, M/M, Non-Canon Addressal, Pansexual!Riko, Witch!Momoi, because Momoi cannot call Riko 'Aida-san' when they're near-dating, same goes for Riko
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:28:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22193332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractalsin/pseuds/fractalsin
Summary: Riko has magic hair, is badly in need of a bisexual haircut (but can’t, not really), and is also very gay for her witch friend.
Relationships: Aida Riko/Momoi Satsuki, Murasakibara Atsushi/Himuro Tatsuya, mentioned Hyuuga Junpei/Kiyoshi Teppei
Series: Fairy Tale Retellings [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/805257
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Within the Boundaries of Solace

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: MomoRiko deserves better than me but,,, this exists. Has existed since July 2019, and now it's up for reading! There might be some mood/tonal shifts in between scenes or a change in writing "style" altogether. I tried proofreading and editing, but if I missed anything, please do feel free to point it out, especially since I probably was too busy screaming at myself as always.  
> Enjoy!  
> P.S. If Rapunzel (Tangled) can tie her long hair into a braid then Riko can too. >:D

How it happened was always very simple.

“Riko-tan, I’m leaving now!”

Aida Kagetora may have been one of the most renowned magicians of his time, but he’d retired from that job and for the past nineteen years, had settled into the task of babysitting – except, lest we forget (because Kagetora certainly did) – Riko wasn’t a baby to be coddled anymore, and ambivalent about the fact her father still called her that.

There was a whole other history there, about how her father got tired of kingdom politics and how magicians wrestled for the title of the King’s Hand, but in general, a major driving factor was the fact that Riko’s mother was unfortunately not around anymore.

Riko held her hands to her hips, a vein popping in her head at bearing witness to her father’s antics. “You’re just going drinking again, aren’t you?!”

But Kagetora was already levitating in midair, pretending he hadn’t heard. “Do you want anything from Seirin?”

“Not really, dad – just don’t embarrass yourself, geez!” And Riko didn’t really tell him to come back safe, because things like that were equally embarrassing. She waved her hand as if to shoo him away, “Off you go.”

Kagetora’s eyes glinted. He was already farther from the window, but his voice was booming as always, “Don’t do anything ridiculous on your end either.”

Riko shook her head. It didn’t help that her father wore his pitch-black shades – she never knew whether he wore it for their true purpose, to shield his eyes from the sun, or to disguise himself. Possibly both, but it was an altogether poor disguise. Him being recognized would indeed pose all sorts of problems. She just couldn’t take him seriously.

When her father was no longer in sight, descending to ground level but his feet never quite touching the earth beneath him, she mumbled, “What’s the worst that could happen in a tower?”

A stray strand of hair obscured her view, and she blew on it aggressively, only for it to fall back. Those were the most annoying ones, the ones not long enough to tuck behind your ear. Upon her father’s exit, she looked at the ornate wall clock and was quick to smirk. It still didn’t fail to give her satisfaction after all these years.

(How it happened was always very simple.)

She’d give an allowance of about an hour from the time her dad left, would read up on a few things and prepare her satchel which was hidden in one of her drawers. There was surprisingly too much and too little you could do within an hour’s time.

When an hour had passed, she stepped towards the window.

Every fixed barrier had a blindspot, and upon touching on this blindspot, the runes made themselves visible. Afterwards, all that was left was to rearrange them in such a way that the command was reversed. ‘Barrier from inside to outside’ would become ‘barrier from outside to inside’.

Her father’s setup was worrying – not because it was hard to crack, but because it was far too easy. Whoever told him that the solution to keeping Riko out of the world was not teaching her magic and keeping her in a tower with a library full of magical resources – touché, really, but if there was any motto her father lived by, it was to not stress over the details.

With that being said, Riko did these things with the assumption that her father didn’t know that she could do magic to a fundamental extent. There was the option of dispelling the barrier completely, but that was nowhere near her capabilities as of now. This one also seemed to be a caster-exclusive barrier, so only her father could actually dispel it when it came down to it.

Huh.

The smart idea her father could do would be to set alarms. Those always went relatively undetected for Riko’s limited Sight, but since her father never called her out on her little escapades, she figured that it was worth risking it and doing it all over again.

A bit more tampering and the reversal was complete. Riko stepped onto the window ledge, gathered her hair about her, and threw it to the thick branch of the tree. It moved on its own and latched onto the tree branch. She gave a tug for good measure. _Yup, that should do it._

Thank the gods for sturdy trees beside towers.

From there, the descent was smooth. It took a while for the hair to untangle itself from the branch, but otherwise, Riko was good to go. She threw down her slippers, one of three pairs, but the only one she ever wore to the outdoors.

_“For you!”_

Pursing her lips, Riko walked on. The direction she was headed was guided by visual memory, vivid as it could come and always fresh in her mind. She kept on going until she reached a clearing with trees schooling somber faces. They no longer reached out to touch her, though she did stop to bow and ask for passage.

They let her pass, but not without one dryad reaching out stroke her hair with a branch. She gave it more of a nudge than a smack – she didn’t want to go around fighting forest creatures. It backed off, with considerable restraint on its part. She smiled, not very warmly, but then, she didn’t really turn back to let them know.

These things that happened really gave her all the more reason to get that haircut she deserved, but even that was too much to unpack.

The gloomy atmosphere never quite subsided, and soon, a very familiar clump of fog was visible before her. This wasn’t rune-based magic, but something occurrent in nature, and eventually, she knew she had reached her destination upon sighting a figure draped in musk green robes. Stepping on a crisp, dry leaf, Riko froze.

The girl in the musk green robes turned like whiplash, and there was a moment of silence. In between two blinks, her facial features melted into glee as she ran to give Riko a hug. As if on some strange, unspoken cue, the fog cleared and the air stirred – Riko could feel a head buried into her hair, further stuffing into the curve of her neck in a show of unabashed intimacy, and immediately, she was attacked by other scents like mulberry and pine.

“It’s nice to see you, Ricchan!” Momoi beamed at her, “I was expecting you though, so perhaps I should hardly be surprised. I’m just really happy to see you!”

“Satsuki, t-that’s nice and all… _buff… camf bree_ -“

“Oh,” Momoi loosened her hold, “I’m terribly sorry, Ricchan. I got carried away again.”

Riko took in deep breaths, her hands curled around her neck. “I thought I was going to die…” When she managed to collect herself, she asked, “Is Auntie home?” The way she asked was very casual, almost like she was talking about breakfast.

Momoi curled her hand around Riko’s wrist gently. “Nope! She’s coming back in the afternoon.” Riko nodded in acknowledgement, her eyes shifting to different directions as she observed the subtle changes in the environment. _Witches are forces of nature, and they understand more than use, understand what mages cannot and bend it to their will._

[This person in front of her was…]

“Are you sure I should be here?”

Momoi seemed confused at this question until Riko eyed her from head to toe. At this, she understood. “I happen to be in a gardening mood, but you’re not really intruding on anything. I’m wearing these partly because of that and partly because something very… you could say _unfortunate_ , happened to my dark blue robes.” She seemed very peeved by this.

“Aren’t those your favourite?” The colours were functional, tailored by Momoi herself – green for gardening, purple for potion-brewing, dark blue for casual outings (thus why its fabric was a bit lighter than usual), and pink for when she was, in her words, “feeling particularly dangerous”.

“When it was up for laundry it accidentally mixed with an item in my mother’s robes.” Momoi explained hastily, “A very unfortunate ink bomb that had no business being there – just thinking about it makes me sad all over again!” Her hands curled into fists, cheeks puffed up, “Even using special ink removers that I personally concocted, it’s going to take another day before they regain their original color.”

“Maybe Auntie Naeko has a solution-“

“No. If there is anything my mother cannot do, it’s laundry.” Riko couldn’t resist laughing at this, “Manual laundry anyway. And besides, even if I have to wait torturously,” Momoi smirked, “It’s almost worth it to see my mother subtly look at me as I assure her that nothing’s wrong in a dangerously neutral way, ending in the rare instance of the great Momoi Naeko screaming and fretting internally in absolute glory.”

“You’re a terrible daughter.”

“Yes, and birds of a feather flock together.” Momoi hummed triumphantly, knowing this was her win, “Let’s go in for a bit, Ricchan.” Momoi gave her a look as if to ask her if she really wanted to stay out here. The answer was that Riko really didn’t mind. Almost anything was a new experience at this point, and she’d learned to treat it that way.

Entering the small cottage was always an experience because it was clear that the Momois had done their best to make themselves a quiet and comfortable home despite the apparent dreariness of the outside. (“But that’s precisely the point as to why we chose this place,” Momoi would say, “No one would dare wander in, out of misguided fear and suspicion.”)

The ambience within was always a huge contrast to whatever the façade would tell unwanted visitors. Small, bell-shaped lamps of both cold and warm colors powered by small gas capsules, illuminated the lounge as a substitute for sunlight. There were only indications of personal sentiment if one looked hard enough. A self-knit quilt with the silhouettes of nightingales, a set of paintbrushes with dried hairs, placed in a jar for safekeeping, and books with worn spines from having been read too much. Otherwise, almost everything was uniform – furbished grey wood, and clay cups and bowls.

“What do you want to do today?”

Riko was at the task of tying her hair to make sure it didn’t get in anyone’s way. She didn’t respond immediately. It was always the same question for the past few years, just at different times. Sometimes Momoi would feel like staying in, and if so, she wouldn’t ask – Riko would immediately know. 

More than she dared to admit, Riko liked to feel safe. There was something ironic and contradictory about that, for someone who wanted some form of adventure in her life – but that was essentially what Momoi represented, both sides of the coin. She had the freedom to choose between both, and by association, so did Riko.

They didn’t go very far that day – only talked and talked amidst the quiet of the town until the stars were out and Riko had to go home. Every time Momoi would leave her, she’d blow a kiss in her direction, and Riko would laugh, waving at her and watching her disappear into the trees. 

The night would end with Riko lying on her cot, feet shuffling in eagerness for the sun to somehow rise again so that it would be another day of secrets shared between the two of them.

* * *

At the leisure with which they always strolled across town, it was easy to forget that Momoi was a witch. They’d talk about the littlest of things, and sometimes those bigger than they imagined.

“Will Kaijou ever be free of Shuutoku, you think?” There was a chime to Momoi’s voice, almost as if it were a lullaby sung in front of a newborn’s cradle – what if, what if, what if. They always spoke about these things in hushed whispers. If others heard, they would not take to it kindly.

Momoi liked talking about politics. Riko did too, from what little she did know. She’d like to think she knew enough, considering how her father talked about nothing but politics, politics, and how much he liked doting on her.

“Shuutoku has grown stronger and has succeeded in crippling Kaijou. I’m not saying there isn’t a chance, but hope is slim. The late king was criminally power-hungry, and he’d dragged the rest of Kaijou down with him.”

Momoi smiled thinly, “That’s an awfully grim take.”

“He’d enslaved different kinds of people.” Riko blurted out, a heated conviction to it, “He’d done all forms of crippling them… aren’t the witches Shuutoku loyalists for that very same reason?”

Momoi looked around to make sure no one had heard, would hear. “It may seem like most of us are, but that’s because many can no longer afford to be self-sufficient.” She explained, “In return for their skills, the Shuutoku liege asks for their allegiance, and it wins them over. It’s a bit more motivated than what compelled the Kaijou emperor to remove magic from the lives of the people because it no longer benefited him.” At this point, Momoi sounded embittered, but she didn’t try to overshadow Riko’s clear displeasure at the situation, only complementing it.

“Power destroys.” Riko murmured, asking more audibly while looking Momoi in the eye, “But what does that make you?”

They passed by wares of different treats. Somehow, Riko regretted never getting to see the town before the Shuutoku reign. Despite their colour, their invitingness, the treats did not retain any childish innocence when there was the awareness that there used to be tales of magical fanfare, of streets selling candies made of dreams and charms with properties that could burn or heal, all taken away by the Shuutoku monarchs, whose counsel went to great lengths to monopolize magical prowess and trade across kinds. The reign of Kaijou’s late king Kanato was grim in its own way, but back then, Kaijou could at least say that it was its own territory. 

Shuutoku currently had its sights set on Seirin, which Riko’s father internalized with great weariness. Old homes became shadows of their former selves. Seirin was next. What was the gain, but more land, more money, more power? The satisfaction of greater domination? Riko failed to understand. Perhaps this was an overly idealistic mindset, but to call it wrong was to consent that such war efforts were welcomed and wanted by anyone who were embroiled into them unnecessarily.

“There are three princes in the line of succession for the throne of Kaijou.” Momoi said in response, hopefully offering a tangent, “I have faith in them.” The way she said it was brimming with promise. It stirred Riko’s insides with an emotion she could only describe as gut-wrenching. “They’re brilliant in their own ways. If there is anyone who can save this kingdom, it is them.”

“I find anything like that hard to imagine at this point,” Riko admitted, to which Momoi did not react. She was not surprised at this response.

“Are you friends with any of them?”

“I haven’t seen them in a long time.” Momoi said wistfully. A certain sadness showed in her face, defined by the way her eyes softened and her lips were pursed. When she lingered in looking at the treats, it was a muted thing. Her sadness seemed to hold her down considerably less, but it was still there, surrounding her like a veil.

“Ah, I’m visiting Mukkun and Himuro-san three days from now. Do you want to come with, Ricchan?”

Riko blinked, a bit stunned at the offer. “Why visit all of a sudden?”

“Ricchan,” Momoi searched Riko for any recognition, and when she found none, she explained, “It’s Mukkun’s birthday by then.” 

“Oh,” Riko said awkwardly, not sure how that revelation was supposed to make her feel. “Huh.”

“Yup.”

“I only know one birthday.” She said sheepishly.

There it was again, Momoi’s all-knowing smile that moved Riko in strange ways. “Your own?”

Momoi didn’t want her to feel bad, after all.

“Two, as it turns out.” Riko shot back, nudging Momoi, a grin on her face. “Yours too.”

They shared a chuckle, though Riko’s was more of a snort.

“Imagine if your father found out. That you came out to see me, or any other person.” 

“He wouldn’t be bothered by the witch thing, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Momoi observed her, her gaze levelled; almost amused. “Are you sure?”

Riko’s breath stopped for a moment, and it felt as if if it had been knocked out of her. She really wasn’t. She didn’t know her father at all, or anything about witches. But hadn’t she seen the deepest secrets the Momoi family could offer her, within their underground storage rooms filled with the glass flasks containing potions their kind were so known for? Witches and mages differed simply in how they practiced their craft, where they drew their magic from, and how witches were largely female, swearing allegiance to different gods. 

All that was left was for her and Momoi to ride that broom together, but it was a risk they couldn’t afford. The castle’s windows could view even the edges of the town’s skies.

Riko gave Momoi’s hand a firm squeeze. “He shouldn’t be.”

A few sparks pricked and flashed at the contact of their hands. Riko immediately retracted her hand before anyone could see the sparks. Momoi had flinched away too, but she immediately went to hugging Riko, as a way to tell her that she appreciated the gesture all the same.

* * *

It always rekindled a bit of hope for Riko, remembering that Himuro Tatsuya and Murasakibara Atsushi were an item.

Their shared house was in the second floor of Murasakibara’s pastry shop, located at the heart of Kaijou’s food district. They had other homes, of course, in the remote town of Yosen where a large portion of hobgoblins resided, but was now also part of Shuutoku territory. With how they were officially treated as lesser beings, there was bitter irony in knowing that they found a temporary haven in a kingdom that did nothing but scorn them.

That being said, the locals all loved Murasakibara’s treats, and for good reason. That made the discrimination mellow down significantly, especially when you could count on Murasakibara to discreetly concoct recipes of disaster for customers that had a special place in the dark world reserved just for them. That, of course, didn’t change the fact that the government taxed him extra high for his success.

Murasakibara, now officially on his nineteenth year, looked at the cake on the table speculatively. He jabbed a cautious finger to point, “Did Sacchin and Aida-chin have anything to do with this cake?”

“No, Atsushi,” Himuro laughed, “It’s just me.”

It was a blatant display of affection when Murasakibara placed his hand on top of Himuro’s, entwining their fingers together. Underneath the parts of his face obscured by his long locks of purple hair, a smile could be glimpsed. “You didn’t have to, Muro-chin.”

“I wanted to.” Himuro said firmly. “The skills I learned at the bakery hopefully aren’t just for show.”

“Ugh,” Momoi pinched her nose, “The stench of true love. Get a room, you two.”

There was shared laughter at this. Even Riko, who wasn’t very close to the two of them, had to laugh because of the truth in it.

“Sacchin’s just jealous. Right, Muro-chin?”

Himuro nodded sagely, but then he asked, his eyes alight with wonder, “Is there someone, Satsuki-chan?”

Before Momoi could answer, she suddenly cried out, seemingly unaware of the comment, “Ah, Mukkun! – Make a wish first! Don’t take a slice immediately-”

“It feels like a waste to not keep the designs,” Murasakibara said, bending down to appreciate the details in the candy art. The candy art happened to be shaped like a small (as could be) Murasakibara and a small Himuro – the height difference still very prominent, of course.

“They were Ricchan’s idea!”

“I just thought it would be nice,” Riko mumbled, still curious to know if Momoi indeed had someone. She had absolutely no business of knowing, of course, but she realized that the topic had never came up between them. “Happy birthday, Murasakibara.”

Murasakibara smiled. It was without teeth, but with how his face was usually stuck on that lopsided frown, it was happiness that was instantly contagious to Riko. Riko felt less uncomfortable at the thought that she had no place in this tight friend circle, and began to feel herself unwind to join the celebrations.

It wasn’t even the first time they’d done this, but she still wasn’t used to having to interact with acquaintances. She didn’t even have a lot of friends outside Momoi. Specifically, she had two others, people her father introduced to her when she was still a child – when times were better, basically. Even back then, when she’d visit the castle by invitation, her father hadn’t wanted her to be involved with any form of noble family. Riko began to understand that this was with good reason.

Both her friends couldn’t be more different from Murasakibara and Himuro themselves, but were also a couple. There was a thought that occurred to her questioning how they were doing, but she decided to focus on the now, because Momoi’s friends deserved nothing short of her devoted attention.

When Murasakibara blew the candles, Himuro asked what he’d wished for. He didn’t bother keeping it a secret.

“I wished that things like this could last.”

The open declaration of it made the room silent, and it lingered in the air like something bittersweet, its implications clear to all those present. Wishes weren’t always meant to be possible. For the most part, that too was some sort of reminder which set something in motion within Riko, saying that she needed to return to the tower soon. She told Momoi as much.

There were the usual soothing touches. Momoi would lovingly card fingers down Riko’s hair, and this was considering how Riko usually did not like anyone touching her hair. Of course, every year there was the topic of Riko’s haircut, which was something that Momoi didn’t bring up this time, but Himuro.

“Isn’t it troublesome to have such long hair?” Himuro asked her – for the first time, Riko noted, which said something about his patience. Usually, people didn’t take so long to ask. “And maintaining it too. I can only imagine how long it is when it isn’t braided.”

And it was easy to make up lies. No one except Momoi actually knew why Riko kept her hair like that. “My mother always told me not to cut it short.” Riko, despite greatly valuing himuro’s concern, didn’t feel that the lie weighed heavily. She was truthful, where her abilities weren’t concerned.

“Why? Isn’t it uncomfortable?” Murasakibara blurted out.

Riko tilted her head. “Your hair is quite long too, Murasakibara.” She meant no harm by the comment, merely stating the truth. Murasakibara didn’t seem to take offense, nor was he miffed by it.

“It’s loooong,” He drawled, and as if to prove his point, he played with a tip of a lock that reached his midback, “And sure it can a bit irritating, but I plan to have Muro-chin cut it soon anyway. But yours...”

“She believed a girl’s hair was her crowning glory.” Riko said, referring to her mother and the harmless lie, “And that cutting it was bad luck.”

“Have you tried?” Himuro asked.

“This is already my hair at its reduced length.” Riko said, and decided to smoothly segue the topic to something else, “But don’t worry, Himuro-san! If I ever do change my mind, you’d be the first person I’d go to.”

Momoi nodded sagely. “The best barber in all of Yosen – no, perhaps the entire continent.” She giggled.

Sure enough, it worked, enough for Momoi to sense Riko’s desire for the topic to shift – Momoi then used the opportunity to present her gift to Murasakibara and Himuro (a joint gift from her and Riko, she said), as she gave them a circular case encrusted with gold designs.

“Open it!”

When Murasakibara did, a bubble came out. None of them moved, and after waiting in anticipation what the gift actually was, the bubble turned larger and formed an image of Murasakibara in a rare instance of his hair in twintails.

“Satsuki’s idea,” Riko said immediately.

“I love it already,” Himuro laughed, the image already imprinted in his mind, “Thank you, Satsuki-chan.”

“You’re welcome!”

Murasakibara seemed less happy. “How do I get rid of it,” He deadpanned, attempting to poke the bubble. At this, the bubble remained defiantly whole, and after a bit more poking, fastidiously returned to its case. “Aaaaaaah,” He whined, “I don’t want that thing anywhere near Muro-chin.”

Momoi winked. “Himuro-san, I leave it to you for safekeeping.”

Himuro nodded, sharing a brief look with Murasakibara before in a single instant, he’d already snatched the case and held it to his chest. ‘Safekeeping’ indeed, as Riko and Momoi watched the both of them wrestle it out.

“Muro-chin, hand – it – over – “

“What’s the harm? It’s not a-as ifffff-“ Himuro was lost to them, suffering Murasakibara’s tickling assault, “ATSUSHI, THAT’S CHEATING-”

Momoi, watching the sight, openly laughed. Soon, Riko found herself doing exactly that too, even suggesting to Momoi to bet on who would win. In the end, by some miracle, Himuro didn’t give in, much to Murasakibara’s dismay.

They stayed for a bit longer, sharing stories with the hobgoblin couple, before saying their goodbyes.

“It’s alright for both of you to stay over.” Himuro offered, “I mean, there’s a lack of space, but I don’t think patrol will take kindly to seeing you at this hour.”

“It’s alright,” Momoi said. “Besides, I don’t think Ricchan can stay the night either.”

Having to hear someone else say as such on her behalf made her feel a degree of embarrassment, so Riko had to interject with her own words. “My dad’s a bit strict.”

“Understandably,” Himuro said grimly, “Maybe not for the right reasons, but it’s too much of a risk these days.” Riko only nodded, feeling lightheaded. “We’ll walk you to the door.”

Momoi reached for one last chocolate treat and ate it in one filling as they left the room. Descending two short flights of stairs, the silence became more pronounced. The pastry shop was a stark contrast to its opening hours, and might have been mistaken for unoccupied living space, if not for the sign at the front door that said ‘CLOSED’ in clear, block letters.

“We had a lot of fun, Mukkun, Himuro-san.”

Beside Momoi’s radiant gratitude, Riko decided that she couldn’t let the night pass by without letting the couple know how truly thankful she actually was.

“Thank you for having us,” Riko bowed, “I’m sorry that your time with Satsuki has been cut short because of me, but she insists on coming with.”

“That’s because you’re someone important to her.” Himuro said matter-of-factly, “For Atsushi, I would do the same.”

Murasakibara slid a hand towards Himuro’s waist, bringing them closer together. “Bye bye, Sacchin, Riko-chin.”

Hearing the change in addressal, Riko’s eyes widened a fraction. “Bye, the two of you. Enjoy your night.”

When they were done checking if it was safe to come out, the door slid to a close. Himuro waved one last time before following Murasakibara up the stairs.

The moment Riko and Momoi were alone together in the middle of the moonlit street, Riko looked up at the moon in its full phase, luminous and as white as a pearl. All of a sudden, Riko felt a tug to her wrist.

Momoi had pulled her to a corner, resulting in Riko yelping, eyes widened at her companion. “Satsuki, _what-“_

“One of my wishes,” Momoi whispered, her eyes gesturing to the side. There was patrol walking along the street, in their guard uniforms and with menacing, uniform, magical spears with pointed peaks reminiscent of finials, “Is to fly with you one of these nights. Not just from the ground to the window of your tower, but across the sky and above the towns.”

But it was too easy to be seen. Regardless of this, this was something they both knew wasn’t strictly impossible in some other time and some other place. If there was anything else that was possible, it was that Riko also knew that Momoi could easily disarm the patrol. All it would take was a bit of sleep powder on her part. No, she’d pulled her aside for a completely different reason.

“If you do that,” Riko said, beginning to be aware of how close they were in that cramped space. “You might catch Himuro and Murasakibara optimizing the purpose of their shared room in the first place.”

Momoi’s lips quirked up. “Well, that too.” It was clearly an attempt at humour on Riko’s part. Momoi prevented the sigh from coming out of her lips, out of fear of what Riko might think and mostly, she reasoned – most definitely because she didn’t want to attract the patrol’s attention. It was also true that she found that funny and insanely cute, but her mind was elsewise preoccupied.

Riko ignored how her ears had been tinged red, refraining from the urge to scratch the back of one of them. “Let’s go.” She suggested, once the patrol were visibly gone. Waiting for her father to be gone for an hour had become like second nature, but waiting with Momoi for a few minutes felt like another thing completely.

“Yes.”

Somehow, their stroll through familiar routes later on, through the forest, the glade, even the city streets – were plagued by a form of unsettling silence. It was companionable, but there was an increasing gap that began to be filled with something unwelcome. For Riko, she realized that she felt unnerved and completely restless with herself. She wanted to bridge the distance between them. Momoi made no such move, nor any indication that she wanted that, and it caused Riko to hesitate.

When they reached the clearing they knew all too well, Riko faced her. Momoi, with her ever trustworthy broom, nodded, and was already hoisting herself on top of it. Riko followed her cue, and as usual, she held tight onto Momoi’s waist.

“ _Agare.”_ With its utterance, there was wind that pushed them upward. Momoi peered in to look – there was no one in Riko’s room, and she couldn’t go further. The runes were still set as ‘barrier from outside to inside’. She turned the broom in reverse. Riko latched her hair onto a nearby hook inside her room, and easily stepped through the window frame after reversing the runes to ‘barrier from inside to outside’ again, her fingers digging into the warm stone.

Momoi waved. “Good night, Ricchan.”

Riko nodded. If her father wasn’t in her room, and the runes remained untouched (though there was also the possibility of her father altering them twice), it meant she wasn’t caught yet. It was too soon to be sure, but she held firmly grounded in the moment, and managed to say, “Thank you for today, Satsuki.”

“No.” Momoi shook her head, blowing Riko a kiss. When Riko heard her laughter, possibly at herself, she might have missed the words that followed before Momoi left for good. “Thank _you_ for your company.”

Riko wanted to kiss her back.

* * *

This time, when Momoi left, Riko leaned against the wall and sighed. She stopped thinking too much for a moment, and concentrated her thoughts on one person, one idea – she was beginning to enjoy this too much. Entering the bathroom, she stared at herself in the mirror, her hair still tied. Riko may have been imagining it, but she seemed a bit more flushed than usual.

Grabbing a change of clothes from the cabinet, Riko hung them on the rack and bent down to splash cold water on her face. Letting out a brief hiss, Riko exhaled. Regardless of telling herself to calm down, her heart was beating rapidly, loud enough such that they were the only noises her ears could hear, not even the sound of her father entering her room.

“Riko... tan...”

He was very, very drunk.

Some part of her was relieved that he was drunk. The runes were back to normal, and he hadn’t seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary. Wiping her face, she was just in time when her father fell forward. She caught him, forgetting her own musings. “Dad, you might want to rest.”

“Yeah, sorry to – _hic_ , to,” He groaned, “To cause you trouble. Even entered the wrong way... d’you have a bucket with you?”

Riko knew that her father knew she had one. Still, she nodded anyway. “It’s over there.” He let her lead him to it.

And Kagetora, the great mage of his time led upon by his daughter, threw up into the disposal bucket. Upon gathering his bearings, he headed towards the window once again, losing balance slightly and tottering as he walked in a very sober state, stepping onto the stone frame before he said, “Hey, Riko.”

Riko startled at the way her father addressed her differently, how he was standing on the window ledge and staring straight at her. It was enough to make her heart stop. “Dad?”

Kagetora jumped. Riko let out a startled noise, looking down before she met her father eye to eye, seeing that he was safe and suspended in midair. It was infuriating how he could just fly like that effortlessly, how Riko could never get the levitation thing right, more a trick than a spell, but what met her wasn’t mockery – far from it, when her father said, with a truthful look to his eye that pierced sharp as daggers:

“I know.”

She immediately knew what he meant, brief dread washing over her as she was unable to call after him when her father retreated into one of the lower levels of the tower. Riko could visit him if she wanted (and her father knew, her father _knew_ , perhaps had _always_ known that she could), right at this very moment, but her head spun all of a sudden, and she figured that tomorrow would be a very different kind of morning for all of them.

* * *

It was early into the morning, and Riko could not trust herself to not hallucinate about what she was hearing.

For a moment, she covered her eyes with the back of her hand in suspended disbelief. She was worried, and that was it. There could be no way that Momoi had visited her in this hour when everyone should be asleep. In retrospect, she hadn’t been very compliant with bedtime as a child, when her father would still tell her stories to bed, but now, she had every reason to think that Momoi wanted to rest.

One could perhaps visualize the shock that sent her jolting upright when imagined-Momoi blew on her ear –

... No longer quite as _imagined_ as she was a moment ago.

“ _-!”_ Riko whirled around, facing Momoi – it could only be Momoi, and she had to confirm this, “Satsuki, that’s you, right?” On the other hand, Riko’s face was stuck with comically widened eyes and a creeping blush, which she could only hope Momoi didn’t see much in the dark. In Riko’s eyes, she was merely a creature shaped by outlines in darkness.

“Don’t scare me like that.”

“I did plan to leave if you were asleep.” Momoi said, and hearing her voice soothed Riko. “But you weren’t.”

Riko got up from her bed. Here she did learn another thing: The barrier was in its normal state, set from ‘the inside to the outside’, explaining Momoi’s easy entrance. Her father could come through with ease either because he was the spellcaster, and therefore the runes didn’t affect him at all, or that was just powerful enough to pass through without injury nor consequence.

When Momoi only smiled apologetically, Riko groaned. Momoi seemed to be very still – usually, she’d be very eager to provide some form of comfort. Riko quieted herself down, and said, “You couldn’t sleep either?”

“My mother reprimanded me for going out this late.” Momoi confided, “She was awake doing experiments in our storage room.”

Upon finding what she was looking for, Riko grabbed a match. The bed was not within the range of the window’s frame. It was dark, save for the light that streamed in and lit up the middle of the room. “And you chided her for still being awake?”

Momoi chuckled, but she shook her head. “It’s to be ready, I know, and to keep herself busy. I think she’s frustrated with how things have been for everyone.”

“Yeah, I think... I think my dad too.” Riko whispered, rubbing the match against the box and lighting a candle that was stored in one of her drawers. When it made light, she walked her way back to Momoi’s side and set the candle on the mirror desk, which was nearest to the bed.

Momoi’s hand slipped out of her robes, and upon moving her hand in slow, fluid motions, Riko realized that the flame began to dance.

“Why were you awake, Ricchan?”

Riko’s throat constricted slightly. To give it away was simple. “My dad has known that I’ve been going out for a long time. He just mentioned now,” She said, keeping herself distracted by the fire, “Maybe in a drunken stupor but – I… I know I should sleep? But I can’t?”

“Ricchan,” Momoi stopped playing with the fire and began playing with strands of her own hair, making a small braid with her hands. Riko watched her eyes reflect the fire, not unlike a sky in the cusp of sunset. Momoi continued looking at the fire, unaware of Riko’s stare, “Do you know why I came here?”

“No.”

It was a harmless proposition, but that didn’t stop Riko from being surprised.

“You mentioned you wanted to stargaze.”

“Oh,” Riko didn’t know what to say to that, really, to Momoi’s tender gaze, “That was so long ago.” Trying to fend off the butterflies in her stomach, she swallowed. The mention of stargazing had seemed like such an insignificant thing, and she was surprised that Momoi was bringing it up now, considering what a faraway thought it was. “You remembered that?”

“The devil is in the details.” Momoi said gently. “It’s strange how we never go to do it.”

“The window here isn’t really what I’d call ideal, so maybe that’s one reason.”

“I know that.” Momoi got up of the bed, stepping around the candle and into the moonlight, her robes flowing behind her. Tonight, they were a lovely shade of royal blue.

“The night sky’s beautiful. It’d be a waste not to go out and see it.”

Riko stared at her, eyebrows furrowed. “Do you have a death wish?”

“Hm, I wouldn’t mind.” Momoi replied in a sing-song voice, “But relax, Ricchan. I won’t take you far. Just the top of this tower, of course. Do you not want to?”

“I want to, but-“ _No risk is worth your life_ , Riko was about say, but then, she thought that now was the best time. Now, at the cusp of night and morning, before consequences. It was the ideal place, and the ideal time. For something that had attempted to trap Riko in for so long, it was a place that protected her – that protected both of them.

“I want to.” Riko concluded softly. Momoi chuckled, holding out a hand for Riko. She grabbed the broom from where it was leaning on the wall. Momoi turned to see Riko blow the candle out, leaving nothing but a dimly lit wick.

Momoi rode first as usual, with Riko sitting behind her shortly after.

“Hold on tight.” Momoi whispered. Riko circled her arms around Momoi’s waist, looking away.

“You don’t have to tell me that.” She muttered, pouting slightly. They were no longer strangers to this anymore, yet every single time felt new.

With a whispered word, the broom lifted. It took them outside. Riko looked down at the cobblestones beneath them. There were fleeting images of a small Momoi in her first flying lessons, eagerly making dives. It gave Riko an idea.

“Think you can do a dive?”

Momoi seemed excited at this suggestion, until her lips drew into a small frown. “Won’t your father see?”

Riko waved a hand dismissively, laughing, “He won’t mi- _whoaaaaa-!“_

It happened very suddenly, their flight trajectory changing into a steep curve. The wind entered her throat, her lungs. Riko had to prevent herself from screaming. She wanted to, but it could alert more than just a nearby forest dweller. They rose, eventually, both shifts amazingly fast and exhilarating.

The moment they reached the top of the tower, Momoi calmly waited for Riko to position herself out of the broom before she too got off, her hair swishing down in cascades.

Riko’s remained tied even in sleep. If she wasn’t careful, her hair could easily dangle down from the tower roof and reach farther down than even her own room’s window, so she took her time willing it to gather into a pile. Momoi sat down beside Riko, not leaving much space between them.

Riko looked towards Momoi’s feet outstretched in front of her. “You’re barefoot.” She pointed out. There were no noticeable cuts on Momoi’s feet. Riko found that particularly odd. Momoi didn’t seem to think much of it.

“The body is a medium for connecting with the rest of nature,.” Momoi told her cryptically, and even such a statement sounded like a beloved story in her voice, “It’s best to do this in hours when the world seems quiet. I wish I could share it with you. It’s a wonderful feeling.”

“You can tell me what it’s like.”

“It’s a thrum of energy that surges through your body,” Momoi said, “It’s not from magic at all, but from something more fundamental. We call it ‘the hush’. Your body feels lighter, more resilient. How do we… ah, Ricchan, hold my hand again.”

Riko complied wordlessly. When she did, Momoi’s voice changed. It was a very subtle change, resulting in it sounding more subdued.

“The loudest sound should be your heartbeat. Concentrate on it, and… you should hear other things.”

Her heartbeat was indeed loud. Riko wanted to just tell Momoi that, but that it was for all the wrong reasons. Still, she didn’t cease to listen and look for what Momoi was referring to. Her heartbeat remained loud in her chest. Soon, other sounds did follow, but they didn’t feel harmonious, scattered in the vast night. There were cries of pain and soft breaths of sleeping creatures all at once, the erratic flapping of wings and the sound of forged blades. Suddenly, some of Riko’s hair raised like lumps beneath the hair ties, as if prepared to lash out. It was with considerably strength that some of them broke free, the hair ties snapping under the pressure.

Momoi let go of Riko’s hand, her smile apologetic. It was enough to snap Riko out of what she’d just experienced.

“It takes time to get used to.”

Riko willed her stray hair to settle down. She looked at Momoi, still in a daze. “That was… frightening.” She said, for lack of a better word to use. Even now, Riko could remember what it felt – not quite like how Momoi described it, because she felt like she was being dragged down by the weight of the world.

“I probably shouldn’t have shown you.” Momoi sighed, “It tends to present its dangers to people it sees as unready. Tugging away firsthand was a smart decision.” She leaned down on Riko’s shoulder, snuggling up and feeling comfortable, even if there wasn’t much to cushion her head.

“But the stars should be more beautiful now, yes?”

Riko looked up. Names of constellations lingered on her lips. Something about the vastness of the sky stirred silence within her instead of doubt. “It’s true.” That was where the beauty of it was. Her finger pointed up, mapping the sky out like a grid, as she recalled what her father’s books could say about them.

“The archer of legend, Hirano,” she said, pointing to the west, “aiming for the Ring of Promise.”

For a round of stargazing, she found herself looking less and less at the stars as they went on. Momoi shared a bit on what the stars meant for witches and old navigators. Looking at a star could determine where you were in the world. Reading the stars of one’s birth could determine their affinity for certain types of magic.

“Do you know how?”

“Gods, Ricchan, no,” Momoi said with a hint of reproach, dislodging herself from Riko’s shoulder and straightening herself, “I may look like I’ve traveled a lot, but I really haven’t. Those who need to know how, maybe, are those who travel by sea or man a ship. Or are hired by one who mans a ship, but the point stands.”

Riko grimaced as she conjured the image of Momoi is swash-buckling garb, a set of people at her beck and call as she guarded treasure troves below deck. It was a fun image which led her to blurt out, “I can see you leading a ship’s crew.”

This seemed to greatly amuse Momoi, who burst out into laughter at the thought of herself being out on sea, searching for treasure and wonders beyond imagine.

“And if I were to be a siren instead?”

Riko snorted. “Then every sailor would have reason to be careful.”

Momoi raised an eyebrow at her. “And _what_ , pray tell, does that snort mean?” When Riko didn’t reply immediately, she made a show of a rare pout. Momoi crossed her arms. “Maybe I wasn’t gifted with the alluring voice, but the looks, at least-“

“It’s beautiful.”

“Huh?”

“Your voice.” Riko said, “I could sleep listening to it. To you telling me stories.”

Momoi sat very still. When she did move, it was to bow her head and conceal the blush dusting her cheeks. Eagerly, she said, “I’m glad you think that, Ricchan, but sirens use their voice for dangerous ploys. I’d rather keep doing what I do. If it makes you feel happy. In fact, I can imagine _you_ leading a ship’s crew. You’re a figure of wanderlust.” They shared a smile. It was true, though it was through Momoi’s help that Riko even realized this in the first place.

“And you’re the siren that will lure me to my demise?”

“Yes, yes,” Momoi laughed, and this time, it was a very cheery sound.

“But where would you go, if given the chance?”

And this was nice, Riko thought, the way time slipped from her fingertips but she couldn’t care less either way. This was what it meant to enjoy with someone freely. 

“I don’t have the privilege to be picky.”

Momoi stared off into the distance again, her look faraway. Riko never had the heart to drag her back down to earth. There was something powerful in the way she always looked for something more, something that Riko admired and saw a glimmer of within herself.

“By the time we do get to travel, it’ll probably be a ruined world that we live in… on the verge of rebuilding, if it is capable.”

“We’ll just have to make do,” Riko said, “Or if not, we can help rebuild it. In ways that we can.”

Momoi visibly relaxed. “I hope you’re right.” Thinking about it, Riko had no idea about the side of Momoi that was involved with other people, the side that would go down to the grave if it meant for fighting for what she believed in.

“Do you want me to tell you a story of my own?”

Momoi certainly wasn’t expecting this. She nodded slowly. “And,” Momoi mouthed eventually – one single word that led to their eyes meeting, breaking the silence, “If you could – I know it’s an odd request – “

“What is it?”

“Braid my hair for me.”

It was Riko’s turn to blink. She broke out into a smile. “I don’t see why not. A story and a braid it is, my demanding princess. But who knows,” Her grin only turned wider, “We could give you twintails like Murasakibara’s-“

But Momoi already spoke before Riko could go any further. “Anything but that, please.” She said, turning around and positioning herself so that Riko was directly facing her back. Riko looked around, before combing all of Momoi’s hair to her back using her hands. In the process, her fingers grazed the curve of Momoi’s bare neck.

She’d proposed telling the story because it was always Momoi who told her stories. She figured she could give one of her own.

Riko began the braid.

“It’s not a story, really – it’s just, a dream I had about you.”

Braiding someone else’s hair was a foreign experience, and she found that she had many firsts when Momoi was concerned. Momoi was listening intently, prompting her to go on.

“I was in my tower like I always was, except that day, I didn’t come to you. You were supposed to come to me, just like you did tonight.”

“And how long ago was this?”

“I’d say weeks ago, but oh, it was a strange dream. Memorable enough for me to recount it to you weeks later.”

Momoi donned a knowing smile that Riko did not see. “Because it concerns you and me.”

“Yes,” Riko breathed, taking her time with braiding Momoi’s hair. Silky tresses easily wound around her fingers. She could have finished far faster than she did now, but it was a moment she wanted to enjoy.

“Somehow, the Riko in the dream knew to wait for you, except she waited and waited, but Momoi Satsuki never arrived.”

“Unfortunately, dream-Riko did not have magic hair.” Riko laughed, “Magic hair. No, she… she wasn’t used to being outside of her tower, and in her desperate attempt to climb down the tower, she tumbled down, and down, and down, into a thicket of thorns.”

“That’s terrible.” Momoi whispered.

Riko hummed, acknowledging the comment. “Dream Riko lost her sight. All she could do was frantically feel the world around her, ask herself what had happened to you. And so she wandered the forest, more thorn than bloom – and I mean, I, as the dreamer, could see the forest. It wasn’t pitch-black – I saw dream Riko struggle to fathom what was laid out in front of her. She tripped, her hair gnarled around tall, leafless bramble. She heard the laughter of the forest entities, but she didn’t give up. Not really.”

Momoi did not speak. Her fists were curled atop her lap. Riko saw this from the corner of her eye.

“She stopped when a hand cradled her cheek. Quiet footsteps made their way around, and two hands covered her scarred eyes. ‘I’ll bring them back,’ the voice said, ‘I’ll bring you home, Ricchan.’ Then…”

“Then?” Momoi gently prodded. Only one person ever called her ‘Ricchan’.

“Then,” Riko had finished the braid, holding her hand out so Momoi could hand over the hair-tie to her. It was a black band with a jasmine flower motif and encrusted white stones, whilst looking up at her. Riko took the hair tie, but Momoi did not stray her gaze away. Riko licked her lips and swallowed, her throat dry.

“She led me through the forest while holding my hand. She protected me and guided me.” Her tongue felt like sand, nervousness tugging at her gut and settling. With a hefty hand, she tied the braid. “The world cleared, and there was the light at the end of the tunnel.” Retracting her fingers, Momoi turned around, her every gesture radiating concern.

“After that… Riko woke up. I woke up.”

Momoi seemed speculative. “It reminds me of something.” She said eventually.

“Of what?”

“When we first met, the dryadkind were terrorizing you.”

Riko smiled fondly at the memory. “You’re right.” It hadn’t been pleasant, but it had indeed been the first time she’d met Momoi. She’d used nothing but words to convince the dryadkind to lay off and leave Riko alone, and when it was about to fail, she’d turned their own will against them, such that they had no branches to use on strangers for the next few days.

“Ricchan.”

Riko broke out of her retrospection. “Hmm?”

“Close your eyes.”

This request mystified Riko, to say the least, teasing her curiosity. “Okay,” She breathed. The image of Momoi under the moonlight was enough to distract her in the darkness that engulfed her, but it too was not enough when she realized Momoi was taking very long. She began to wonder if something was wrong.

When Momoi saw that Riko’s body was gradually leaning forward, she cupped Riko’s cheeks and kissed her before Riko could open her mouth to say anything, to ask what was wrong. The words died down in Riko’s throat – nothing felt wrong, not when she savored having Momoi’s lips in her own, soft and plump just like she’d imagined them.

Riko’s lashes fluttered, and she gazed up at Momoi whose lips shone with a trail of wetness. Her eyes reflected the same vigor, as her look turned into one that was knowing, almost as if it were to be kept a secret between just the two of them.

“What…” She uttered, sputtering, “Wh-what… yes.”

“Ricchan,” Momoi giggled, perfectly amused by Riko’s reaction thereafter, bashfulness which was seemingly a recurring display of hers whenever Momoi was concerned. “What is that yes for?”

“That yes, I’ve liked you for a very long time.” Breathlessly, Riko leaned back, the pointed spire of the tower roof above her as she gazed up to the sky. Exhaling through her nose, she looked at Momoi, whose eyes shone under the moonlight, painted with nothing but adoration. “I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way.“

“Are you still not sure?” Momoi shot back, daring her to say that she wasn’t.

Riko shook her head. “Don’t stare down at me like that.” It did funny things to her, if truth be told.

The remark only made Momoi’s lips quirk up in amusement. With a featherlike touch, she curled her fingers around Riko’s arm. Tucking her hair behind her ear, Momoi kissed Riko again. There was the sensation of teeth against tongue, gnarling at each other clumsily. Riko’s hand settled on Momoi’s chest, directly against her heart. When they broke the kiss, Momoi enveloped Riko in an embrace.

“Don’t worry,” Momoi whispered, “If you’ll let me stay, I won’t ever be far.”

With widened eyes, Riko curled her arms under Momoi’s, splaying her fingers on her back, its grooves tangible through the soft fabric.

“Me too.”

It was earnest in nature, and nothing if not true.

* * *

When Kagetora entered the room of his daughter, he did so in a quiet manner. There was no avoiding being seen, however. In the middle of the room where a large mat was sprawled beneath them, Momoi Satsuki was watching over Riko like a hawk. Riko was sleeping soundly, her head on Momoi’s lap, hair splayed in such a way that it circled the room, almost like a protective coil.

Momoi removed the finger pressed on her lips. “Do I wake her up?”

Kagetora took a seat down on one of the wooden stools, arms crossed. “Please.”

He watched the exchange between the two girls, Momoi bending down, her fingers carefully caressing and brushing away tresses that obscured Riko’s face, then whispering in her ear, “Ricchan, your father’s here.”

At the mention of ‘father’, Riko’s entire figure jolted up. “Wha-?”

She was exceedingly alert the moment she woke up, and when her eyes landed on her father, she found herself blinking before glaring. If looks could kill. “Hi dad.”

“Sorry to interrupt your time together. I understand it’s quite valuable, enough for you to sneak away thinking that I wouldn’t know. It’s almost as if you didn’t care if I knew or not.”

Momoi remained silent, her gaze eerily calm, a protective element to it, yet a form of restraint because this seemed to be a matter between father and child. Riko, on her part, frowned. “Funny of you to say that to me, dad. I knew there was a chance that you might have known, but I didn’t want to add anything more to your full plate.”

“I’m only concerned you didn’t tell me that you had a girlfriend.” Unfolding his arms, he glanced sideways, not missing the way the girls’ hands intertwined, “It’s strange – surely Naeko would have seen the resemblance.”

“You’re…” Riko blinked, “Fine with it? And even more, you know Auntie Naeko?”

“It’s because I know her that I’m fine with it. I’m not angry at you, Riko.” He stopped himself, “Well, not in the strict sense, but I would have appreciated you telling me that you were leaving to and fro from the tower. Had I truly been against it, I would have cast protective charms of a different nature in excess, ones that would have kept you in.”

“And what,” Riko said dryly, “If I had told you that I was leaving, you never would have agreed.”

Kagetora didn’t seem to disagree to this. “It’s worrisome that you can do magic, but there is a side of it that is advantageous.” He muttered, “But alright, I know that it is indeed, my fault that I should have better trained you to fend for yourself rather than holing you up here as a solution. I’m proud that you seem to be doing fine on your own.” It was one of those rare, crooked smiles from Kagetora that took Riko by surprise, and the bow that came after.

“I hope you’ll come visit more often, Satsuki-kun.” Kagetora said, “But don’t bring Naeko. She’ll seriously whip me into shape.”

“If I may ask,” Momoi said, hands folded above her lap, “What is your relationship with my mother, exactly? You seem to know her quite well.”

Kagetora let out a grunt. “She was a well-known witch in Kaijou. Peerless and strange… a good friend. Many mages could follow her example.” He seemed to be satisfied and at ease with that description, like it summed her up pretty well, “In its own way, the fact that she did not enroll you in the Academy when she had the chance is proof that she wants to protect you from something. Closeness to the royal family cannot spell well.” Then, he asked, “Isn’t your mother worried that you are not home yet?”

“Nope! I said I’d stay over for the night.”

Kagetora winced. “Which means… Could it be…” 

“Ah no,” Momoi waved this off dismissively, “It won’t happen.” Her expression contorted into a smile. “Unless.”

“It’s a pleasant morning to discuss important things, isn’t it?”

Kagetora was peeved at the sound of this voice. They were all staring at the window now. Had she not spoken, the only thing betraying her arrival would have been the rustling of robes like leaves being caressed by the wind.

“Unfortunately, the news I bring with me isn’t so pleasant.”

“It rarely is.” Kagetora nodded in the direction of the new guest, “Speaking of the devil...“

The grin only widened. “Oh, you were talking about me?”

“… It’s been a while, Naeko.”

Momoi, not mindful of the way Kagetora interacted with her mother, practically jumped towards her and entangled her in a smothering embrace. This caused Naeko to smile.

“Hello, darling.” She told her daughter, her pleasant demeanor gone in an instant when she taunted Kagetora, “Your defenses are weak, Kagetora. It’s enough for mindless beasts, but perhaps not so for our other opponents.”

Momoi smiled at Riko. Riko didn’t know what to make of this conversation, so she just mustered a very awkward smile.

“Since my daughter and your daughter are getting married in the future,” Naeko was very much aware of the searing red blush that flamed Riko’s cheeks, a slightly less intense one for her own daughter’s, “I might as well take your daughter with me because you’re doing such a poor job as a parent.”

“Am not,” Kagetora was actually very petulant about this, though he admitted to his faults as a parent. He turned to Riko. “Riko, tell me honestly, am I a bad parent?”

“You bring me books from your longer trips,” Riko said without hitching, but this time, she did pause to think, a hand on her chin. “Which I always appreciate. Let’s see…”

Kagetora’s eyes glimmered in anticipation. They stood there for a long while, and it seemed like time was going slower, when Riko opened her mouth to speak. Needless to say, the words that came next were unexpected by the listener.

“There’s nothing else, huh?”

In that precise moment, Kagetora’s heart cracked, and he wanted to sink into the earth, never to be seen again.

“Oh, he’s a good cook.” Riko immediately added, “He cooks sometimes, when he’s not busy.”

Kagetora would have resorted to crocodile tears, if he weren’t so tired. “Somehow… the way you’re addressing me like an outsider… hurts the most…”

“I love how you’re so unbiased, Riko-chan.” Naeko laughed. Riko still wasn’t used to being called ‘Riko-chan’, but it moved her heart in unexplained ways.

“No, but seriously,” Riko said, walking up to her father, “I love you dad – that’s cheesy, and I hate it, but continuing that line of thought, I can love others too. Maybe more than I love you, and that’s okay. It doesn’t make you any less of a person.”

Kagetora nodded again. “But it does make me less of a father, doesn’t it?”

“There would have been better ways than to try and contain me in this tower, yes.” Riko consented, giving herself time to take that in and still laugh, “And it’s funny, because I always imagined us having this talk alone, but I think…” She smiled, referring to the four of them, in this moment, “This is family too, in its own way.”

Momoi and Naeko exchanged looks.

_So it was._

Riko huffed, opening her arms to give her father a hug. “Lesson # 1,” She held up a finger, “Your daughter likes hugs, but she doesn’t like unwelcome ones that happen at inopportune times.”

Kagetora chuckled, walking into Riko’s arms and wrapping his around her arguably smaller frame. At that moment, his heart was unable to swell with pride, only the bottomless pit that he’d wronged Riko so many times.

“Hey, Riko.”

“Yes?”

“I’ll keep on learning.” He said, holding her hand. When Riko felt her father’s hands, they were coarse and battle-worn, but they were familiar. Idly, she thought that in a world where she would lose her sight, it was one of the hands she would recognize by the way it felt against her own, even if it was just with the back of her hand. “This old man won’t ask for forgiveness from you until he deserves it.”

In the corner, Naeko sniffed. Momoi looked weirdly at her mother, until she realized what was happening. “Kagetora, you…”

Kagetora sounded unimpressed. “What are you sniffing about there?”

“That was…” Naeko pulled out a handkerchief and blew her nose. They couldn’t tell if she was joking, “In the while that we’ve known each other, that was actually the most touching thing I’ve ever heard your prideful arse say to anyone at all.”

“You were friends with Rima, so that’s impossible.” Kagetora deadpanned, “Anyway, you said you had bad news for us?”

“Yes, it’s about this,” Naeko held up something that had slipped from their attention. She gave the letter to Momoi. Momoi had doubts whether it was addressed to her until she saw the handwriting. There was no seal nor envelope, only teeth imprints marking half of the page and a message that made Momoi’s blood run cold.

_He’s with me now._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Even more so making it to the end of this one-shot. Phew.  
> This is part of a four-part series. I'm a clown. Does Riko ever get that bisexual haircut though? That question has yet to be answered in my head, complication aside.  
> If anyone’s wondering where Kiyoshi and Hyuuga are despite being implied to exist in this AU, they’re being gay boyfriends, originally supposed to travel the world until everything went to shit. Now they’re hubbies staying in a hut because Kiyoshi’s a grandpa like that >:D
> 
> Note: Feeling unsatisfied with the conclusion between Kagetora and Riko is totally normal! Family deserves to be given the attention of as long as a multi-chapter. Their relationship isn't strained though, and Riko harbors no excessive grudge that needs venting or cathartic release despite what it may seem. Even in canon, Kagetora is quite the supportive father. He just needs to get it together in this AU lol.  
> On a completely random unnecessary note, father-daughter relationships can be pretty complicated and a bit messy. Not all father-daughter pairs can meet halfway like Kagetora and Riko do here, sadly.


End file.
